Mooning Over the Mariphasa
by marginaliana
Summary: Severus and Remus get stuck in an unusual location. Snape and Lupin slash. Not HP7 compliant.


"Really, Lupin," said Snape, "must you insist on this mockery of civil behaviour? No, I will not have a cup of tea." He almost rolled his eyes but managed to maintain a blank face instead, not wanting to irritate Lupin too much. _As if that's even possible. But it would be inconvenient were he not to agree to this._

"All right," said Lupin mildly, abandoning his move towards the cottage's kitchen and settling down into a lumpy armchair. "What do you want, then?"

"I'm working on… a project, and I have a theory I would like to test. Therefore I need an appropriate test subject. In point of fact, I need a werewolf."

"But you loathe me, Severus," said Lupin. "Surely you must be able to find some other werewolf who would be more acceptable. Why me?"

Snape sneered at him. _Because I trust you, more the fool I,_ he thought, but merely said, "you are predictable."

For some reason that made Lupin smile. "Fair enough. What kind of test is it? What would I need to do? What's the purpose? I don't think I can agree without knowing more about what's going to happen."

"Telling you anything would compromise the integrity of the research," said Snape haughtily. "You wouldn't understand it in any case. But if you're worried about danger to your sorry hide, you needn't be. All I need is for you to have a look at this book." He withdrew the book from his inside robe pocket and set it gently onto the table between them. It was obviously a carefully hand-made book, with intricate carvings made into the leather of its cover, but time had worn away most of the detail and covered the images with a dusky patina.

Snape ran his finger along the spine. "Simple enough a task even for you, Lupin," he said, but as he looked up, he started. Lupin's face was contorted into an expression of something he couldn't quite name -- some variation of pain or ecstasy or a combination of the two -- and his eyes were fixed on the volume on the table. It was oddly hypnotic, Snape found, and he wondered idly whether Lupin's face looked the same when he transformed as it did during sex. He shook off the thought. "Lupin?" he asked cautiously.

"Where did you get that?" gasped Lupin. Snape smirked but declined to answer.

"What do you sense about it?" he asked urgently. "There's magic, to be sure, but there's also something else. What can you tell me?"

Lupin pulled his eyes from the book. "It's… there's…" he stuttered. "There's almost a fragrance about it, something elusive… it works on me even though I can't quite place it." He shuddered.

"Hmmm," said Snape, "Intriguing. Perhaps…" Instead of continuing, he reached down with both hands and opened the book to a central page displaying an amateurish illustration of a werewolf with grotesque, bared teeth, draped incongruously with a necklace of flowers. Before he had the pages half open, though, Lupin let out a strangled cry.

"Severus, don't!" he said, and reached down as if to pull the book away. As he touched it, though, the edge of one of the open pages curled up and wrapped over both of their hands, trapping them against the paper. Snape reached for his wand, but it was too late. There was a flash of something against his eyes, a pulling sensation in his stomach, and then they were gone.

The next thing Snape knew he was landing arse first on a patch of cold, rocky ground. Lupin landed on top of him a moment later and as the air rushed from Snape's lungs (again) he thanked Merlin that Lupin was so bloody thin. _If he were well-fed I'd have been crushed to death._ Lupin's cheek was pressed against his forehead and he felt his own skin heat up where they touched.

"Get off me, imbecile," Snape snarled, as soon as he could draw enough breath to speak. Lupin was panting, but after a moment he drew a slow, deep breath and started to lever himself up. Halfway through, he stopped, breathed in again, and shifted downwards.

"What—" began Snape, but froze as Lupin leaned down and pressed his lips to the underside of Snape's chin.

"Severus," he whispered in an intense voice, his breath curling up into the brisk air. "You smell soooooo good." Snape was flabbergasted.

"What—" he began again. Then Lupin licked him, a long, slow swipe that started near his collarbone and ended up at his earlobe. For a moment, Snape couldn't think -- could only lie still and try to keep himself from gibbering at the sensation of Lupin's heated tongue against his cool skin. Then something clicked in his mind and he reached for his wand. _Smell,_ he thought.

Unfortunately, Lupin took that opportunity to begin rubbing against Snape's leg, nibbling at his ear and making oddly enticing grunting noises. Wrestling his arm free, Snape quickly cast a Bubble-Head charm over Lupin's head -- and, to be safe, his own -- before twisting their bodies around so that _he_ held Lupin down instead. He carefully leaned back so that Lupin's mouth couldn't touch his exposed skin -- _I don't need that kind of distraction_ -- but Lupin's face had the same expression Snape had seen before. It was so different from his usual calm façade that Snape couldn't help but study it, filing away the images of bright eyes and of the tight lines around Lupin's mouth for later consideration.

Lupin writhed beneath him for a long moment, head encased in the charm. Then suddenly he paused, buried his face against his arm and sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.

"You can let go, Severus," he said. "I am myself again."

Snape cautiously rolled off Lupin but held his wand at the ready. Lupin breathed deeply again.

"I apologise, Severus," he said, lifting his head from his arm but not meeting Snape's eyes. "That was very quick thinking, to block out the scent of it."

"The scent of what, Lupin?" Snape asked impatiently.

"Oh. The mariphasa flowers." He gestured, and Snape finally remembered to look around. They were surrounded by flowers – large, round, white blossoms with just the faintest hint of grey, irregular splotches, growing on a hedge, a few lush, green leaves poking through between the blossoms. As he looked up, he saw that the flowers only went about four feet high; beyond it, for easily another four feet, grew the hedge. Snape scrambled to his feet.

The hedge stretched out a long distance in both directions and was interrupted at various points by breaks through which yet more hedge could be seen. The flowers only seemed to grow up to about halfway, though they stretched as far as the bushes did. The ground beneath him was not merely hard-packed dirt, as Snape had previously thought, but rather a path of crumbling cobblestones, covered with soil and dotted with pale grass poking up through the cracks.

Turning, he saw that Lupin had also managed to stand. Lupin's expression was almost back to its usual irritating calm, but Snape still detected hints of something unsettled there.

"I apologise for my reaction to the scent, Severus," Lupin repeated. "It's rather like catnip to werewolves. I've never… well. I've never been exposed to quite that much all at once. I think that's what I smelled before. The pages of that book…"

Snape frowned. "Interesting," he said, ignoring Lupin's apologies for the moment rather than think about the man's reaction. "And now we are here."

"Where?" Lupin asked. "We didn't Apparate and I know that wasn't a portkey; the book didn't come with us."

"I don't know." Quickly Snape cast a number of basic location spells, ones that theoretically would point him towards Lupin's flat, or the nearest memorable landmark he'd previously been to in his life. His wand, flat on his palm, merely spun in circles, moving idly in a way that seemed almost calculated to infuriate him. "It's cooler here," he mused. "Can you Apparate back?"

Lupin looked off into the distance a moment. "No," he said, "there's a barrier there. Not distance, and not the usual ward, either." He held out both hands and drew a shape in the air. "Something… flatter, you know?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Lovely. And neither of us can create portkeys, unless you somehow managed to get an in with the Ministry within the last month." He looked at Lupin, who was looking back passively, and snarled. "Well, idiot? Haven't you got anything to contribute?"

Lupin began to empty his pockets. "Er, I've got some quills, a bag with the remains of a piece of cake, one galleon and eight knuts, a deck of cards, and, er, a ball of string." He shrugged at Snape's inquisitive glance. "My jumper started unraveling and I thought it would be better to save the yarn, you know?"

Snape said nothing but took the yarn. It was a faded blue color and he could see the matching tint peeking out from beneath the collar of Lupin's robes. He unrolled a bit of it, then nodded as if to himself, and reached under a spray of blossoms to knot the loose end carefully onto a branch. He tapped the ball with his wand. "_Extendere_."

When he looked up, Lupin had that strange, unsettled look in his eyes again.

"What?" Snape barked, then, "Nevermind. I don't want to know. Pick a direction and start walking!"

Lupin nodded his head and moved off at an even pace. Snape gritted his teeth. Lupin's failure to stand up for himself was one of the man's most irritating traits. He sighed and followed, holding the yarn so that it could play out without catching on anything.

They walked for a while in silence, Lupin turning some corners and bypassing others according to some irregular pattern Snape couldn't quite make out. The hedges stretched out as far as he could see in every direction, always with the flowers growing up to waist height and no further. Sometimes the way they walked was straight; other times the hedges curved gently to the left or right. He tried to keep the path they'd traveled in his mind, but after ten minutes gave it up as hopeless and dedicated the mental energy towards trying to remember various transportation spells and casting surreptitious warming charms.

"So," said Lupin finally. Snape twitched. He should have known the peace couldn't last. "What kind of project were you working on, Severus?"

Snape graced Lupin with a withering glare. "Is this your idea of small talk, Lupin?" he asked. "If so, I can do without it." He was more irritated when Lupin failed to respond in kind.

"A bit," Lupin allowed, inclining his head to one side. "But also a practical question. Obviously there was some sort of trigger mechanism in that book keyed to a lycanthrope. If we can figure out what it did, we stand a better chance of undoing it. And given that I am, by necessity, a bit of an expert on the subject…" He trailed off. Snape merely grunted. He supposed that was true, much as he hated the idea of anyone else knowing more than he did. "And," continued Lupin with a wry smile, "I think the integrity of the experiment is well and truly compromised already, so telling me shouldn't do any harm."

Snape sniffed. He had to admit Lupin had a point. "Very well. I'm working on a cure for lycanthropy." He was unprepared for the way Lupin stumbled mid-stride and almost fell. "Watch yourself!" he snarled.

"Severus!" cried Lupin. "Oh, that's wonderful!"

The change to Lupin's face from quietly pensive to suddenly, brilliantly open made Snape's heart catch and he, too, stumbled briefly before regaining his balance.

"I'm not doing it for you," he snapped. Lupin's face closed down again and Snape was surprised to feel a twinge of… something. He ruthlessly suppressed the emotion. It wouldn't do for Lupin to get ideas.

"Of course not," said Lupin quietly. "But it's still a marvelous thing, and very good of you. Hundreds will benefit."

"I'm not doing it for them, either," Snape growled. "I'm not a bloody Gryffindor."

"No?" said Lupin, obviously amused. "You could have fooled me, what with all the sacrifices and life-saving you've done over the last twenty years. You're a hero, Severus, and everyone knows it. You'll not convince us otherwise."

Snape felt suddenly tired. "That's exactly why I'm doing it, Lupin. Hero? Bah! I did what I had to do, and I did it not because I'm some sort of 'good person' but because I had no choice. You think I want to be remembered for _that_ for all eternity?" He took a small, vicious bit of pleasure from the way Lupin's mouth had fallen open. "No, I'll be famous on my own merits, thank you very much. Not because of fate, or because of any of the myriad people who wanted to be my master, but because of myself – my mind, my work. That's all."

They walked in silence for another few minutes. Finally Lupin cleared his throat.

"So how did you come across that particular book?"

Snape sniffed. "I bought it at an auction last year for almost nothing. On the surface it seems almost a work of fiction – werewolves frolicking in meadows and such. But it's written in a script I don't recognize, and there's something familiar about it -- an aura, almost." He made a gesture with his fingers, almost as if he could touch whatever it was that he was remembering. Then he shook his head. "You sensed something, too, did you not? Or was it just the smell of the pages?"

Lupin considered for a moment. "No, I think you're right. There was something else besides the scent, or tied to the scent. I wish I weren't so susceptible to the mariphasa. Perhaps I could have learned more in time." He gave Snape a sidelong look.

"You needn't keep looking so apologetic," said Snape stiffly. "I'm perfectly aware that you were under the influence and would never have chosen those actions had you been in your right mind." Lupin opened his mouth as if to say something, then paused and shut it again.

"Of course," he murmured.

Irritated, Snape turned the conversation back to the subject of lycanthropy and began quizzing Lupin on the effects of the flowers. Snape had heard of them, of course, but he'd never read of the smell intoxicating a werewolf, or of a place where they grew as thick as they obviously did here. He didn't dare remove the Bubble-Head charm from either himself or Lupin while they remained surrounded by the blossoms.

As they walked and discussed, Snape slowly began to relax just the slightest bit. He still didn't know where they were, or how to get home, but at least there didn't seem to be any immediate threat. And Lupin was… a good conversationalist, he admitted in the privacy of his own mind. He paid attention and asked intelligent questions and contributed his own knowledge without being patronising. It was almost pleasant.

The thought made him tense up again. _Pathetic old sod,_ he castigated himself. _Are you so desperate for companionship you'd settle for a crazed, murderous animal?_ After a moment, though, he sighed internally. _Lupin's made mistakes but they're no worse than mine, I suppose,_ he granted ungraciously. _I don't think… well. I must admit I don't believe he actually intended to kill me._

Lupin looked at him out of the corner of his eye and Snape realized he'd stopped listening to the man, lost in his own thoughts.

"What?" he barked. Lupin only smiled and said something about the plant's pheromones and the werewolf's enhanced nasal abilities. Snape dove back into the conversation and tried to ignore the thought that he was perhaps enjoying being trapped here a bit too much.

They walked for what must have been hours. Snape was forced to cast _Extendere_ on the ball of yarn three more times, but luckily it showed no signs of giving out. He began to regret not taking Lupin up on his offer of tea earlier and paused to Transfigure a few of the cake crumbs into sandwiches, a trick that would keep them alive in the short term until they could get to real food. They ate quickly in turns, the other keeping watch for anything unexpected. Then they walked again.

Finally, Snape could no longer ignore the obvious and stopped, looking up into the sky. Then he looked down again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"All right," he said, sighing, "obviously neither of us wishes to be the first to mention it, but why isn't the sun moving?"

Lupin grimaced. "I _had_ hoped it was merely my imagination." He tapped the back of his hand with his wand. "_Tempus._" A glowing red question mark appeared on his skin. Lupin snorted and angled his hand towards Snape for a moment before shaking the symbol off.

"Lovely," Snape commented. "Time to stop, then. So far we've seen no clues as for how to escape this place, and you'll be even more useless than usual if you're too tired to think straight." He forbore to mention his own growing exhaustion. Lupin only nodded, though, and as tired as Snape was, he found himself wishing the man would argue, would do _something_ other than be so bloody agreeable all the time.

"And anyway," Snape continued, another thought coming to him, "if time isn't passing normally here, then we have no guarantee that distances may be passed normally, either." Suddenly angry, he threw the ball of knotted yarn to the ground at the base of the nearest hedge. "What a waste."

"We can't know that," Lupin pointed out in his most irritatingly reasonable manner. "And it isn't as if we have any other options. We can't exactly see where we're going. I'd get above the hedges but I don't think these cake crumbs will extend as far as a step ladder."

"Don't you bloody condescend—" Snape started, something within him coming to life at the prospect of a proper argument. But then he paused. "Idiot! _Levicorpus!_"

The wave of his wand lifted the other man above the hedges, ankle-first. _Lupin squawks like a girl,_ Snape thought viciously, _though he's too Muggle to go bare under his robes._ He waited for Lupin's recriminations.

"Can you twist me a bit more to your left?" Lupin said, and Snape almost dropped him in shock. Lupin's voice was a bit breathless, but it held nothing like the rage or shame Snape had expected to hear. He frowned. _Unbelievable. What does it take to make the man lose control? I'll get to the bottom of you someday, Lupin._ Sighing, he twisted the wand again and held it there.

"Okay, to the left again," said Lupin after a moment. "Okay, just more of the same in that direction. To the left again, please." Then, after the third turn, "ahhh. Hmmm. Something there." He pointed. "A cave, maybe, some sort of hill with a big dark opening in the side. But it's the only thing not hedges that I can see in any direction."

It was the direction they'd been steadily traveling all afternoon, at least judging by the unmoving location of the sun. _Coincidence?_ thought Snape. _Or something to do with the lycanthropy? It seemed unlikely he would have just happened to choose that path unless there were some subconscious factor at work._ He tried to remember if Lupin had given any indication why he'd chosen each of the turnings he had. Eventually, his musings here broken by a clearing throat.

"Severus?" came Lupin's voice. "Would you mind letting me down now? Er, the blood's beginning to rush to my head."

Snape smirked but murmured the counterspell, gently setting Lupin back on the path between the hedges, right side up.

"And you've led us right to it," he commented. "Were you aware of that?"

Lupin made a humming noise. "Not consciously," he said, "but perhaps… well, I don't know, really."

Snape snorted. "Of course not. No, nevermind," he said as Lupin opened his mouth. "Your complete lack of self-analysis is tedious and not relevant to the issue at hand. How far is it to this cave?"

Lupin nodded, his mouth twisted up into an odd expression. "Another couple of hours, I'd say; we'll have to circle around rather than take a direct path. And I _am_ tired. I think we should stick to your idea of stopping for now. Try to get a few hours sleep, perhaps, despite the daylight."

"I'll keep first watch," said Snape, though he himself wanted nothing more than to curl up and drape his cloak over his eyes. Still, someone had to stay alert.

Once again, Snape was surprised that Lupin didn't argue. "All right," he said, and pulled up his knees before turning over on one side. Almost immediately his breathing began to slow and even out, and Snape gritted his teeth.

"Inconsiderate arse," he murmured, settling himself into a seated but alert position against the hedge. _I suppose I ought to prefer that he not pretend to care._

"I trust you to know your own limits," came Lupin's voice from over his shoulder.

Snape sniffed, but inwardly he attempted to stifle the warm feeling that bubbled up in him at Lupin's words.

"Go to sleep, Lupin," he said finally, but without censure.

"Yes, Severus," Lupin said, and Snape could tell he was smiling.

He passed the time by reciting Ovid's _Metamorphoses_ silently to himself. At the end of the second book, Snape knew he was nearing the end of his own reserves. He'd cast warming charms over Lupin regularly, as well as renewing the Bubble-Head charm, and performing the magic had drained him even further than he'd already been. He rested his hand on Lupin's shoulder for a moment, then shook the other man awake, ignoring the way something in his stomach jumped at the stupid snorting noise Lupin made.

"Up, Lupin. Your watch."

Lupin yawned and gave Snape a dozy smile. "All right." He stretched, exposing a thin line of skin where his robes parted in the front and his jumper was too short. Snape looked away. Lupin yawned again and then rolled over, mimicking Snape's wary posture in front of the slight hollow his body had created in the dirt.

"Go on," he said, gesturing with his head at the space he'd just vacated. "While it's still warm." Snape froze for a moment, wondering what Lupin was hinting at, then shook his head at his own preoccupation and slid over.

"You'll have to set up your own Bubble-Head charm," he said. "And mine as well." Lupin nodded and cast both, the subtle twist of the spell curling up inside Snape's existing bubble of air. Snape sucked in a surprised breath at the freshness of the new air and gave Lupin a look out of the corner of his eye. Carefully he unwove his own spell, pulling the slight remains of the magic back into his reserves instead of merely letting it dissipate into the surrounding area. He turned and curled up into the space Lupin had created, breathing a little more deeply, sending himself to sleep through patient application of Occlumentic methods.

Snape woke a while later to the soft feeling of Lupin's hand on his right wrist, the pads of his fingers rough against Snape's skin. The ground beneath him was pleasantly warm, and as his mind came alert he realized that Lupin must have been casting the warming spell while he'd slept. _Is that care or simply practicality?_ he wondered.

"Severus," Lupin said softly, and Snape, still breathing evenly, could hear something strained in Lupin's voice. His instincts told him there was no danger, so he kept his eyes closed for a moment longer. Then Lupin pulled away and shook him.

"Wake up, Severus," he said roughly. Snape opened his eyes.

"Yes, Lupin?" he said evenly.

"It's time we got moving," Lupin said. "Even with sleep these charms are wearing." Snape nodded and stood, pulling the ball of yarn from under the hedge. They breakfasted on yet more Transfigured cake crumbs and began walking again in silence.

Though he was wound up with frustration, as well as a faint feeling of hunger that Transfigured food couldn't shake, Snape found the silence companionable instead of awkward. Not for the first time, he wondered what his life might have been like had that memorable night in the Shrieking Shack gone differently. This time, however, he forced himself to think not only of the consequences he himself had suffered but of the others involved. In past years, the war notwithstanding, Lupin had seemed determined to attempt reconciliation between them -- to behave as if they were actually friends instead of long-established enemies. Snape had always been irritated by Lupin's presumption that a murder attempt could somehow be erased from their history. And yet he now wondered if perhaps it could be, not erased, but settled. Lupin's failures had always been ones of association, and ultimately so had Snape's own. Those times were over now, and Snape wanted his life to hold new possibilities. He suspected it was merely weariness at feeling responsible for his own choices that was leading him to let Lupin be free of his own. _Perhaps…_

Then the branches on his left rustled a bit more than the others and he tensed.

"There's something coming," Lupin murmured. "From… that way." He pointed with his wand at a break in the hedge ahead and to their left.

Snape just nodded and lifted his own wand, dropping the ball of yarn behind him as he fell easily into an alert stance. The noise, by now, was closer, a sort of rough scuffing sound against the paving stones accompanied by a fainter, more irregular whistling. Just as he judged the noise to have reached the other side of the hedge it paused and whatever it was made an obvious wheeze of laughter.

_What in Merlin's name?_ was all Snape had time to think before the shape jumped out at them both. He snapped out a few binding and petrifying spells, the sound of that laughter having confused him enough to keep him away from the deadlier jinxes he knew. None of the spells seemed to have any effect, and then the figure was upon them, still chortling but now tangled in Lupin's legs, twisting underneath him. It growled, almost playfully, and flung an arm up around Lupin's waist, pulling him down onto the cobblestones, and Snape found himself forgetting all the spells he'd learned and invented and shoving the thing off Lupin with his bare hands.

The figure rolled back, then, and paused at the edge of the bushes, and held up its hands.

"I beg your pardon," it said, and Snape pulled back, wand ready in one hand while he helped Lupin up with the other. Then he finally got a solid look at their opponent. It had the body of a man, a large man, but with what seemed to be a fine sheen of hair all over its body. And then there was the head, a large, angular shape with stubbly horns sticking out from the top.

"Fucking Merlin's tits," breathed Snape. "It's a bloody minotaur."

The minotaur grinned. "Indeed." Then the smile fell from its face. "But you are not those whom I expected to see. Where is Portia?"

Snape and Lupin looked at each other.

"I don't – who is Portia?" asked Lupin after a moment.

"She for whom this book was created." The minotaur gestured. Then it paused and looked at them suspiciously. "But you should know that, if Valerius sent you here."

"Valerius?" said Snape, still trying to get a handle on the idea that they were _inside the bloody book_. Then the name connected with a memory and his jaw dropped. "You can't mean Valerius Cordus," he sputtered.

"The very same," said the minotaur.

Snape ground his teeth together. Lupin put a hand on Snape's shoulder and he shrugged it off angrily.

"Lupin, you never cease to amaze me," he growled. "Not only did you get us trapped in a book, you got us trapped in a book created by a man who's been dead for five hundred years! How are we going to—"

The minotaur sucked in a breath. "Truly? It has been that long?"

Snape reined in his irritation. "Yes," he said shortly. Then, at the sadness in the minotaur's face, he frowned and elaborated. "The year is 2001."

"I'm sorry," said Lupin beside him, and Snape twitched.

"Perhaps," said the minotaur, "it would be best if you both came in and had a cup of tea."

Snape sighed, but as the minotaur turned, he gestured for Lupin to follow. They passed through three more breaks in the hedge and then the hill Lupin had seen was before them, a hollow opening in the side.

They followed the minotaur inside, and when Snape's eyes adjusted to the low light, he was surprised to see that it resembled his own home – narrow hallways and small rooms filled to the brim with books, scrolls, and quills. It was even cooler inside than it had been outside and Snape pulled his robes closer about him. The minotaur slouched through a doorway and seated them in a small living room before excusing itself to make some tea. As soon as he'd gone, Snape ignored the growling of his stomach and put up an Imperturbable Charm.

"Let me do the talking, Lupin," he said, "and don't get too friendly. A minotaur is a dangerous creature and I'll thank you not to forget it."

Lupin gave him a hurt look. "I'm not as stupid as you seem to think, Severus." He paused, his mouth twisting. "Especially given that I'm an animal myself, as well you know." His tone was mild but his eyes flashed a little. "But I'll follow your lead if you'll take into consideration that it probably isn't wise to irritate him, either. Be polite. I know you can manage it when you judge it important."

Before Snape could respond he heard the clomp of the minotaur's steps in the passage and hurriedly took down the charm. He gave Lupin his best repressive glare.

"So," said the minotaur, entering and setting a cup of tea in front of each of them. Snape noticed with amazement as it settled into an armchair that the minotaur was now wearing a worn smoking jacket. _What in Merlin's name?_ he thought.

"I suppose I _have_ been shamefully rude not to introduce myself," the minotaur said. It reached for a pipe sitting on the coffee table between them, lit it, and began to smoke, waving the pipe idly in the air as it spoke. "My name is Clarence Horatio Smyth, and I am the keeper of this book. And yourselves, gentle visitors?"

"My name is Severus Snape, and this is my colleague Remus Lupin," Snape said. "And I'm afraid we don't know very much about how we came to be here. I opened the book, and then…"

"Ah. Which of you is the lycanthrope?" Clarence asked. Snape and Lupin exchanged a look.

"I am," said Lupin. "Is that a requirement for entry?

"Oh, certainly," said the minotaur. "At least, that is the way it was explained to me when I came here. Valerius was quite above my level in magical theory, of course. My talents lie more in the literary vein. But Valerius said he'd found it easier to set general conditions for entry rather than tie it to himself or Portia specifically. One lycanthrope, yes, and one to watch over, with the desire to ease the pain of transformation in his heart. Quite a clever set of conditions, I should think. Not just anyone could fall in, you see?"

Snape carefully avoided looking at Lupin. "And Portia was…"

"Valerius' wife, of course," said Clarence. "I'm sure you understand, I wouldn't usually reveal this much except that it appears one of you must now be the rightful owner of the book, my home, and that must change my circumstances entirely. I do hope I shall be able to continue my translation. It's my life's work, you know. Horace, the great poet of the Roman Empire. But yes, it was she for whom all this was created, that she might have a safe place to go during the full of the moon, where she might be free and happy."

Lupin sucked in a breath. "More than happy, I should think, given the abundance of flowers." Snape bit the inside of his lip, remembering Lupin's strange, passionate reaction to the scent. He took a sip of his tea.

Clarence nodded, his large bull's head bobbing oddly up and down. "Oh, yes, quite," he said. "Only… after a year or so of such exposure her reactions began to change, Valerius said; she became aggressive rather than… ecstatic. That was when I was brought in, as you may have surmised, to be her companion."

Snape saw Lupin nodding out of the corner of his eye.

"So your attack," Lupin said, "was merely…"

"Merely a bit of play, yes," said the minotaur. "Portia always did love to be surprised, you see. And I was rather looking forward to it myself, really, seeing as how it had been quite long since her last visit. My work is fascinating, of course, and quite important, but even a great mind such as myself needs, I fancy, a slight vacation now and then." He took a long drag on his pipe.

Snape fought against rolling his eyes.

"Did he happen to share the method of leaving the book with you?" he asked.

"Oh, certainly, certainly," said the minotaur. "It was their last visit, I suppose. Valerius told me he thought it might be too dangerous in future, since Portia was becoming so much more aggressive. I don't know what the flowers were doing to her by then; she hadn't smelled right in rather a while. In any case, he said he wanted me to know how to escape in case she hurt him while playing. That way I could remove either of them from the sanctuary. It takes two to get out as well as in, you see. Quite an imaginative spell, I think."

"So how do we get out?" Snape asked, struggling to keep the impatience out of his voice.

"Oh, I suppose you will want to leave, won't you?" said Clarence. "And just when we were getting to know each other, too. I love my work, but… I have been a bit lonely, I must admit. I had hoped Portia would return."

Snape opened his mouth to say something scathing but stopped as Lupin placed a hand on his arm.

"I'm sure we'll be back," Lupin said wearily. "We can bring you the latest literature related to your studies, of course; I'm sure you'll want to catch up on the scholarship. And perhaps a visitor or two as well? I'm sure there must be others who would love to hear about your research."

"Oh, how delightful!" said the minotaur. "Could… could I have a dog? Just a small one. I've always wanted a dog."

"Of course," said Lupin soothingly. "I'll see to it myself."

"How kind," said Clarence. "Well, then, the spell is _Revenite ad Lunam_, and it's a swish, swish, flick, I believe. And of course you must be touching when it is cast."

"Thank you very much," said Lupin. Snape forced himself to nod civilly. He reached over and took Lupin's shaking hand in his own, firmly pushing down the flush he felt at the warmth of Lupin's skin. He cast the spell. For a moment, nothing happened, and then that same pulling sensation grabbed at him. There was a flash of light, and then they were gone.

They landed in a disorganized heap on the floor next to Lupin's ratty sofa. Once again, Snape landed on the bottom, Lupin's bony hip pressing against his thigh. Lupin's face was nestled into Snape's neck and for a moment they merely lay there, breathing heavily. Then Lupin lifted one hand up onto the coffee table and flipped the book shut. He twisted his wrist, and Snape felt the Bubble-Head charm dissipate. But Lupin did not pull himself up.

"Just… give me a minute, would you, Severus?" he said, dropping his arm down again. "That charm isn't meant to be held for so long and it's the waning moon and I'm just… I know I'm weak. Believe me, I know."

Snape shut his mouth on a half-formed protest. _This is the first time I've ever heard Lupin call himself weak,_ he thought. _How odd._

Lupin's voice dropped to a mumble. "I needed it, though. That scent, god… suddenly the wolf was pulling forward and it was like I couldn't control myself any longer. Being in that place, even with the scent gone, the wolf was always pulling, pulling… I'm so bloody tired."

Something stirred in the back of Snape's mind.

"Lupin," he said urgently, "how did it feel compared to the Wolfsbane?"

"Mmmm," said Lupin. "Almost the opposite, really. Nothing stops the transformation, of course, but the Wolfsbane feels like it just shoves the wolf deeper into you, letting the human mind come forward. Whereas with the flowers… the wolf is pulled to the surface, I think. I'd imagine that the transformation is less painful there, since the human mind isn't fighting it so much."

"Lupin," said Snape, then paused. _I don't know why I'm still laying here,_ he thought. _I must be quite tired._

"Severus," Lupin whispered.

"Don't fall asleep, Lupin, I've had a stroke of genius."

Lupin snorted faintly. "Of course. Sorry, I shouldn't presume…" Slowly he levered himself up on his arms, back arching as he tried to push upwards. Snape's eyes caught on the long line of Lupin's neck and he felt himself harden. _Oh, oh!_ he thought. _Damn, not just weariness, then._

Lupin froze, his hips still pressed against Snape's, and then he looked down, meeting Snape's surprised eyes.

"Severus," he said. "I…"

Snape flushed.

"I—" he choked out, but then Lupin leaned down and pressed their lips together, and Snape forgot what he'd intended to say.

After the chill inside the book, Lupin's mouth was an inferno. Snape watched Lupin's eyes flutter shut, his gaze drawn to Lupin's long lashes and golden skin. He opened his mouth under the sensual assault, sliding his tongue across Lupin's bottom lip. The other man moaned, the sound making Snape's cock harden even further. He slid his hands up onto Lupin's back, one moving further up to tangle in the warm brown mess of Lupin's hair. They kissed for a long moment, then Lupin dragged his mouth away with a sigh.

"Severus," he whispered. "I want… but it's… I don't think I can manage more than this right now. Too tired."

Snape pressed his lips to Lupin's shoulder. "I…" he cleared his throat. "I'm somewhat fatigued myself," he admitted. "Perhaps…" Snape's face flushed even more. He wasn't sure how much of this Lupin would regret if they stopped now, or how far he could push the situation.

"Come to bed with me?" Lupin interrupted. "To sleep, I mean. That is, if you want…" He bit his lip.

"Yes," said Snape. Lupin's smile lit up his whole face. _How long have I wasted?_ Snape thought. Then, _No, I won't think of that. Here, now._

Lupin levered himself up more easily this time, holding out his hand to help Snape up a moment later. Once on his feet, Snape didn't let go, and Lupin led him down the hall to the bedroom. Lupin's bed was like his couch – covered with thin, patched blankets – but when he lay down, Snape found it surprisingly comfortable. Lupin crawled in beside him, stopping only to pull off Snape's shoes and his own. He rested his head on Snape's shoulder.

"So much to do," Snape murmured, but his eyes were already drooping. "Have to get more of those flowers, try modifying the Wolfsbane with them."

"Tomorrow," murmured Lupin, breaths evening out. "Plenty of time."

_Yes,_ thought Snape, right before he fell into sleep. _For once, yes, I have plenty of time._


End file.
